


Intimidation 101

by MaxBetta



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, sansan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 18:05:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13323594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaxBetta/pseuds/MaxBetta





	Intimidation 101

Autumn had always been Sansa’s favorite season, especially since she had begun attending college in Boston. She loved the variety of colors in the foliage, the sound of leaves crunching beneath her feet as she walked to class, the crisp air, and the fact that she could wear leggings every day was definitely a bonus.

 

She was in her first year at Boston College, starting the educational framework that would make her dream career a reality. She had wanted to be a teacher for as long as she could remember, just like her mother.

 

As she made her way through the courtyard to the large brick building for her first class of the day, she couldn’t help but release a sigh of contentment at how everything seemed to be coming together. She entered the classroom for Ethics 101 only to find it mostly empty, save for one male student. She jokingly referred to him as “the guy with the face” when talking about him to her friends because of the large scar that covered him on one side from his temple all the way down to his jaw.

 

Although she had only ever seen him sitting at a desk, she could tell he was a large man. His shoulders were broad and his hands were massive with thick fingers, making every pen or pencil he held look like a toothpick. He sat halfway toward the back of the classroom. She preferred to sit in the front row, letting everyone know that she was taking her education seriously. They never spoke to one another, but he stared. Good God did he stare, usually while chewing on the end of a pen. But he never said a word.

 

There were no less than a hundred rumors about how his face had become disfigured. Sansa had mentioned him while having brunch with her girlfriends one Sunday, and they each went around the table sharing the story they had heard. Margaery was told his face was burned when his bedding caught fire as a child. Jeyne had heard that he had been indebted to the mob and they held a hot iron to his face to teach him a lesson. Whatever the reason, Sansa found his staring creepy and tried her best not to look in his direction at all.

 

A few more students filed in, and just before the bell rang, Professor Baelish made his entrance and greeted the class. Baelish was known for being a cold, strict instructor. His appearance supported that, in fact. He was shorter than average in height, with slicked back greasy black hair that had gone gray at the temples. He was known campus wide for wearing a turtleneck every day of the year, regardless of the weather. He had a creepy voice, just slightly above a whisper, that made it difficult to hear everything he said in class. His walk was unique, too. He shuffled about briskly, as if he were desperate to divulge a great secret.

 

Lecture went as usual, with Baelish droning on and on in his barely audible voice, and then toward the end of class he began handing out the results of their most recent test. Sansa received her grade, a D in bright red marker, with a note attached that said “please see me after class.” The bell rang and all of the other students made their way out of the classroom except for Sansa. She watched Baelish as he loaded papers into his briefcase and headed toward the door to the hallway which led to his office. He stood at the doorway, made eye contact, and nodded toward the hall. Sansa took her cue and stood up, quickly following behind him.

 

They both entered his office and he shut the door. He gestured for her to sit in the seat in front of his desk, and he sat in his desk chair, crossing his legs and pressing the tips of his fingers together. Finally, he spoke.

 

“I’m very disappointed in you, Sansa. I want you to know that I am your biggest fan. You’re aware of my long history with your mother, who I adore. Naturally, I was thrilled to see you in my classroom, but you just aren’t thriving as I would have hoped.”

 

“Professor Baelish, I don’t know what else I can do. I already have an almost non existent  social life. I study all the time, sometimes getting only three or four hours of sleep. I take notes in class, I read the suggested materials...what else is there?”

 

He smirked. “Sweetling…” He stood up from his seat and walked over toward Sansa. He leaned forward, taking both of her hands in his, and encouraged her to stand. “...sometimes in life, it pays to go above and beyond. It’s good to go the extra mile, so to speak.”

 

She furrowed her brow. “But...I’m already doing extra work. No matter how much I do, I just can’t seem to grasp the concepts. I can’t…” She was interrupted mid-sentence by a slender, bony finger pressed to her lips.

 

“Shhhhh Sweetling. Are you really going to make me say it?”

 

She looked at him with bewilderment, tears of frustration beginning to well in her eyes.

 

He continued, bringing his face uncomfortably close to hers.  “Perhaps instead of trying harder to grasp the material, you should try grasping...me.”

 

A loud burst of male laughter startled them both. They had been so deep in conversation that neither of them heard his office door open. “The guy with the face” was standing in the doorway, having watched them for who knows how long. He was even bigger than she ever could have expected.

 

“Did you seriously just ask her to grasp you?  What a creepy fucker.”

 

Professor Baelish was already in damage control mode.  “Young man, things aren’t as they seem. Whatever you think happened, didn’t. Here is how this is going to go…”

 

His words trailed off and he lost all train of thought as Sandor began walking toward him, fuming. The enormous man stepped between Baelish and Sansa, crossing his arms, looking down at Baelish’s wormy face as he towered over him. “No, this is how it’s going to go. First, you’re going to apologize to Sansa for being a fucking sleaze. Second, you are never, EVER going to behave like this toward anyone again. Third, if you so much as breathe toward Sansa in a way that I don’t like, I will make you eat your own dick, wait around for you to shit it out, and then make you pick it up and eat it again. Can you grasp that concept, you sick fuck?”

 

Baelish was terrified. He swallowed hard and began nodding nervously. He grabbed the briefcase off of his desk, muttered an “I’m sorry” in Sansa’s general direction without actually looking at her, and took off down the hallway and out the nearest exit.

 

Sansa was now alone with Sandor in the professor’s office.

 

“Th...thank you.” She was still in shock about what had just transpired.

 

“Come on, let’s get you out of here.” He gently placed an enormous hand on her back and guided her out to the courtyard. They sat next to one another on a wooden bench, saying nothing for what seemed like an eternity.

 

“I’m Sandor. Sandor Clegane.”

 

“Sansa Stark.”

 

“Nice to meet you, Sansa. Sorry you had to deal with that.  We aren’t all bad, I promise.”

 

She nodded and smiled. She felt guilty for all of the times she had secretly made fun of him and thought of him as creepy. He was being so kind to her, and the way he handled the situation with the professor was kind of...dare she think it...hot. She wanted to know more about him.

 

“Hey, I kinda owe you one.  Do you want to, um, get some food or something? My treat.”

 

A wide smile spread across his face. “Sure, I love food.  But first things first, let’s get our asses down to the main office and ask to be transferred to a different instructor.” He stood first, holding his hand out for her, and she took it. They chatted as they walked toward the main building.

 

“What professor do you think you’d prefer?” He wanted to make sure to ask for the same one she wanted.

 

She let out a small chuckle, “Someone who doesn’t wear turtlenecks.”


End file.
